


Why I don't like Volcanoes, by Richard Poole

by Ponddipper



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, First Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:22:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7812328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponddipper/pseuds/Ponddipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at the beginning of Series Two episode four (the treasure hunters one)<br/>Richard bolts when Camille mentions a trip to the Volcano.  But why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why I don't like Volcanoes, by Richard Poole

**Author's Note:**

> So I was watching the treasure hunters episode two days ago and this idea came to me. 48 hours later I am able to post the completed story.  
> Camille mentions a trip to see the volcano on Saint-Marie and Richard practically runs away. So I got to thinking. What if.....?

** Why I don’t like Volcanoes **

** By Richard Poole **

It all began one sunny Saturday afternoon.  Well, frankly _every_ afternoon on this godforsaken island is sunny.  And hot.  But, you get the picture.  Anyway, I was sitting outside La Kaz, with Camille.  I’d just endured a morning being dragged, by her, around the Museé de Honoré and was desperate for a cup of tea. 

To be honest the museum itself was ok.  It wasn’t the V&A, or the Fitzwilliam but in its own way it was…. _charming_ and kind of interesting _._   What wasn’t so great was the hour long, completely biased towards one man, lecture I had to suffer (on my feet I might add as all the chairs were taken up by precocious kids and their pushy parents).  It was all about the supposedly ferocious pirate, Francois Le Clerc.  Apparently he was feared throughout the Caribbean, blah, blah, blah.  If he was so great and terrifying, how come I’d never heard of him before, hmm?  Sure the world is full of pirates, there’s probably some just off the coast of Saint-Marie smuggling Rum and illicit mangoes or something, but if this Le Clerc was so great why wasn’t he in the history books I read at University, hmm?  And there was no mention of Edward Teach, aka Blackbeard, William Kidd or Anne Bonny.  Now they really were pirates!

 

As soon as we got outside the museum, Camille got all huffy and angry.  Apparently I had been _‘incredibly rude_ ‘ with my muttering and I ‘ _hadn’t been listening’._ How did _she_ know anyway?  She can’t see inside my head, which frankly sometimes, is a much appreciated thing.  She said I’d said I wanted to learn more about the island, but it was a lie.  It was her idea to ‘ _teach me more about the fascinating history of the Isle of Saint-Marie.’_ To be honest I only agreed to go along to the talk to stop her nagging me.  Well that’s part of the reason.

We’d ordered drinks and I was just about to take that first giddying sip of ecstasy inducing liquid when she had to go and spoil it.  Camille mentioned a trip to see the volcano…..

Luckily I hadn’t actually taken any of my drink; otherwise I might have sprayed her with it, overcome as I was by shock. Instead I managed to mock a cooling blow across its surface as I regained my composure and then took a sip.

‘It’s very beautiful.’ She said. 

I stayed silent, figuring that it was my best course of action right now, as a thousand sensations flooded me and a memory I thought long buried surged, unbidden to the surface. 

‘When you’ve seen one volcano, you’ve seen them all.’  I said desperate to change the subject before she noticed the sweat forming on my brow.

‘Well, how many volcanoes have you seen then?’ Damn.  No such luck.

I remained silent, taking a gulp of tea.  Catherine, Camille’s _very_ French mother appeared behind me and said something, but my mind wasn’t focussed on that.  I was just trying to calm down enough to get the hell out of there.  I couldn’t get the image out of my mind of my last volcanic experience.  But the weirdest thing was it was Camille playing the part of my companion that night, even though I knew it was impossible.  I hadn’t even met her back then.

It wasn’t something I wanted to go into, especially not with her in the middle of the street, but I _have_ seen volcanoes before, and they truly are beautiful.  But even more beautiful things can happen around them…….

**19 years earlier……**

It had been Angela’s idea to have a last group holiday before we set about our finals, and went our separate ways to pursue diverse careers.   It was supposed to have been the whole house gang but James pulled out last minute with some lame excuse.  I never did find out the real reason why, but I know Helen stayed behind to keep him company, so we didn’t feel that bad about it. 

So it was just Angela, Sasha, Roger and me who headed to the land of ice and snow for a five night break.  We rented a quaint log cabin in the middle of nowhere, right across the valley from one of the volcanoes.  The girls were edgy at first but the rep at the airport assured us the Icelandic have very sophisticated monitoring and evacuation procedures should any violent eruptions occur.

We’d spent a long day trekking the slopes of some unpronounceable mountain of ash and lava that Roger had insisted we visit.  Trust me; never go on holiday with a Geology undergraduate!  Sure, the scenery was nice, well stunning really is the word, but it was cold and the driving was a bit scary on all that ice and snow.  This was Iceland at Easter.

Looking back I suppose it was kind of cool to be _that_ close to the lava flow, but Angela and Sasha were worried the thing might suddenly blow up on us.  Roger was totally blasé as always.  I was somewhere in the middle, assuming that the park guides wouldn’t have let us up there if there was any danger, but then there was a _lot_ of oozing from the cracks up the sides and it felt hotter than a summers day in the oven at times.

‘I spent too long on my dissertation to get offed by a bloody volcano!’  Sash said.

 I had to agree, though I hadn’t minded helping her.  It meant we had spent hours, just the two of us, pouring over books in the library and at the kitchen table.  She studied literature and chose to write her dissertation on ‘le rouge et noir.’  It led to her trying to teach me French.  I pretended I didn’t get it, just because it was fun to wind her up, and I loved hearing her speak the words slowly to me, trying to teach me the right pronunciations.  Boy, she could make even the most mundane things sound like words of love.  What is it about the way French sounds when it’s spoken, particularly whispered quietly in your ear as if you have a secret with your confidante?  It wasn’t any less wonderful at the kitchen table either.

 

The house was nice, just what you imagine a log cabin would be - Bare wood and whitewashed walls bleached by sun and wind, a huge open fireplace on one wall, and all the furniture was solid and wooden.  There were home spun blankets and throws, while the beds were soft and warm.  The living room had a stuffed deer’s head mounted on one wall and the girls wouldn’t enter the house until we had taken it down and put it in the shed outside. 

Ange and Sash shared a room, while Roger and I took one each.  I wasn’t going to share with him as his snores are enough to trigger earthquakes in Cambridgeshire, let alone on a volcanic island!  I just hoped he didn’t set off any false alarms. 

The view outside the cabin was amazing.  It looked right over a small valley and up towards the volcano.  There was a wide covered wooden deck and even a hot tub.  How continental!  The valley was wide and covered in a smattering of snow, a few bare trees and weak green mossy fields.  Like home but a lot colder (and without the mountain.  Cambridgeshire is very flat!)

 

It was our third night.  It’d been my turn to cook, and Sash volunteered to wash up.  I stayed and did the drying.  It seemed only fair.  It had been a long day and Angela went to bed with a headache.  Roger disappeared straight after dinner mumbling something about a program he wanted to catch on TV.  The sounds coming from the TV room made me think it wasn’t the kind of program you’d see on the BBC.  I was glad Ange had gone to bed.  If she found out, she’d likely pass out.  Ange was a _delicate_ sort.  Even more innocent than I was in some ways.  I must admit it wasn’t my cup of tea either, so that just left Sash and Me.  Chores complete, I pulled out a pack of playing cards and we sat the table.

By ten we’d almost finished the bottle of vodka she bought at duty free.  By eleven we were on some local brew we found in a cupboard that was clear like water but burnt like the lava from the peaks around us.  I didn’t feel drunk, but maybe I was.  It would certainly explain what happened next.  I can still recall it all in crystal clear clarity.

‘So Richie, it’s a beautiful night.’ Sascha said, placing her hand on my arm. 

I looked out the full length window and could see the stars shining like jewels in the perfectly clear sky.

‘It sure is.  Why don’t we step outside and look for a bit?’ I was curious about how different the night sky might look this far west.

‘Won’t it be cold?’  She said, a small smile curving her lips. 

I guess I frowned as she laughed at me then quickly said,

‘I’ll grab a blanket off the bed, and there’s always that hot tub.  We could go for a paddle!’

To me it suddenly seemed like the best idea ever.  Like a huge bubbling foot spa.

‘Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.’ I replied and she winked, as she headed out the door, with me not far behind.

I remember looking up at the sky and feeling awed by it, wishing I’d brought Lucy along.  The sky was huge, (and I’d been living in Cambridgeshire where the nearest thing we had to hills was a car park ramp).  I was lost in the wonder of it all, just staring up trying to get my sozzled brain to remember the constellations.  To be honest it was starting to hurt my neck but I couldn’t drag my eyes away.

I must have been gawking for ages, because when Sasha called my name, and I looked over, she had found the blanket.  She’d also found the controls for the hot tub and turned it on.  Wisps of steam were idly floating up into the cool night air.

She was sat on the edge of the tub with just her underwear on, her feet dangling in the water.    Her jeans and thick jumper lay in a heap on the floor and she beckoned me over with a crook of her finger.  I was totally confused by the scene and how it made me feel. 

I’d liked Sasha Reid from the moment I met her.  She was a beautiful woman.  At least she was the last time I saw her.  A year older than me, she was never fat, but not stick thin either, unlike her bean pole of a sister.  Sash was all woman, just the right amount of curves to be healthy.  Her hair was wavy blonde and cut to her shoulders.  It always smelt of roses to me.  She was warm, funny and had _the_ most amazing eyes that seemed to draw you in.   Like an enchantress she had cast her spell over me and I was a goner.  I never expected to fall for anyone like that, and not so young either but I was besotted from the moment she said hello.  I would have done anything for her and I guess she knew it.  Many’s the time after our study sessions I had to take a cold shower to cool myself down.  She seemed to make me break out in a sweat just with a look, and her smile made me feel all tingly inside.

Sash had been educated in the state system – mixed schools from age 4 to 18.  I on the other hand had spent my years at a single sex boarding school with virtually no contact with females our own age.  To me girls were an alien species.  So to find Sash, sat on the edge of the hot tub virtually nude was a whole new experience for me.  And she made sure that it would be one I’d never forget.

Part of me, the well-mannered, brought up in a catholic boarding school by Nuns and taught to be a gentleman part, told me to shut my eyes and turn my back until the poor woman could cover herself and before she caught her death of cold.  But the other part, the larger, more insistent part at that moment wanted to rush to her, rip off all my clothes and join in her fun.

The alcohol I’d consumed earlier in such a large quantity made the decision for me and I felt my feet taking me to her side.

She reached out to my hips and pulled me closer.  Her hands were shaking slightly as she unbuttoned my jeans, sending mini tremors through me that left me struggling to breathe.  I couldn’t stand the tension anymore so I put my hands on hers to stop her.  The look she gave me made her intentions abundantly clear, so I slipped off my clothes.  If she wasn’t dying of hypothermia, I figured I would be okay too.  As I recall I was actually feeling pretty warm at that moment anyway.  Sash smiled and licked her lips as she put her hands on my hips then shoved my boxers down to the floor.  I was starkers in front of her, and I remember hearing her gasp as she saw the effect she’d had on me.  I felt myself blush, turning bright red, _everywhere,_ but she took my hand and pulled me down to sit next to her.  In a flash she had stripped bare herself, and I didn’t know where to look.

‘Come on, _big boy_!’  Sasha chuckled, taking my hand again and leading me into the water.

My skin tingled as the warm water caressed my skin and soothed away the aches and pains from the days hike.  The hot tub was wonderful.  It wasn’t as small as a bath tub, but it wasn’t a swimming pool either, so I guess that was why Sasha cuddled up close to me.  I breathed in her scent, as I had all those times in the library or back home when we working on her dissertation.  It was like a form of chloroform to me, dulling my rational mind, casting a spell over me and taking me to a happy place.   I trembled with excitement as she snuggled even closer and I put my arm around her shoulders in case they were getting cold.

‘Beautiful isn’t it?’ she sighed looking out at the stars, her head resting on my chest, but at that point I only had eyes for her. 

‘Oh yes.  Gorgeous.’ I replied and she turned to look at me, mischief in her eyes. 

She must have seen how I felt because she reached up, cupping the back of my head and then she kissed me.  Lips squashing mine into my teeth.  Oh my god!  Up until that point in my life I had never kissed a woman who wasn’t my mother, my Grannie or my Aunt.  And none of them kissed like Sascha Reid!

 

I’d dreamt of, wondered about this moment for a long time.  I’d never had a girlfriend so I had no experience to base it on, but I had imagined what it might be like to be in love and to kiss that special someone.  But nothing could have prepared me for the rush of blood to the head I felt as her tongue shoved its way between my lips with urgent need, as if she was trying to give me mouth to mouth.  I know I gasped, allowing her in further, and I remember her tongue running across my teeth.  It sort of tickled and I enjoyed it. Of course it would have been rude not to join in, so I did, pushing back, suddenly curious about how many fillings she had, and wanting my tongue to find out.  It was two by the way, and one crown.

After what seemed like an age but was probably only a few minutes, Sasha rolled over and pressed herself along my body, and I groaned.  It felt like every nerve ending I had was being blasted with high voltage electricity.   It wasn’t painful but sinfully exciting.  Her hands seemed to be everywhere at once, on my head, my chest, my shoulders and hips.  I gasped in shock as I felt her hands curl around me.  _Down there!_

I began to hyperventilate, panic rising in me.  I was twenty years old, never been with a woman before.  It was all too fast, too open.  Anyone could walk in on us.  I hadn’t even bought her dinner and she was, well…..

But Sasha, ever knowing Sasha must have realised my fear because she began to whisper in my ear.  Softly blowing on the shell as she exhaled, her voice soothing me with French I couldn’t understand.  But it drove out any panic I had and set my hair standing on end.  I pushed myself into her grasp as she explored my body fully.  I didn’t know what to do, and hoped that she might understand as I tried to speak.

‘Don’t worry.’ She purred.  ‘I am a _very_ good teacher.’

Taking a deep breath she dived under the water.  I remember the squeak I made when she put her lips around me, her mouth exploring where her hands had so recently been.  A small voice in my head wondered how long she could hold her breath under water, but the desire she induced drowned it out and again I was lost to her spell.

Being inexperienced it was all coming to a conclusion much quicker than I would have liked.  Some innate scrap of manly pride told me that I should hold on, make this last longer, that I should return the pleasure to her but it was too late.  Just as I reached my first ever peak of passion, Sasha bobbed up with a gasp. From the corner of my eye I saw a red explosion as the distant volcano erupted in time with my own body.

I was panting for breath, trying hard to claw enough oxygen into my lungs to feed my brain and form a coherent thought.  I still had stars in front of my eyes, but I could see Sash watching me, still with a wicked grin on her face.  Overcome by embarrassment, apparently my default setting I tried to apologise.

‘I’m sorry Sash.  I don’t know….’  She put her finger on my lips to stop me and the words died in my throat.

‘Don’t be sorry.  I’m not.  Besides that was only page one.’  I watched entranced as, with both hands she lifted herself effortlessly out of the tub and padded over to the door that led inside.  Looking over her shoulder she pouted,

‘Aren’t you coming, _big boy?’_  

I gulped like a fish facing a shark, but I knew I would follow her.  I was totally under her spell and would follow her off a cliff had she asked.  In a way she sort of did.

That night we made love at least twice.  I was so hypnotised by the cloud of ecstasy I was under it all blurred into one fantastic whole.  Exhausted from the whole mind-blowing experience, by dawn I fell asleep, holding Sasha in my arms.  At some point she must have slipped away because when I got up the next day, she was sound asleep on the sofa, curled under a blanket with a satisfied grin on her face.  It made me smile that I had put that grin there and I had a hard time stopping myself from singing every time I thought about our night together, which was approximately every six seconds or so.

 

About 8 the next morning, there was a loud banging on the front door.  Sash groaned from her place on the sofa, and peered over the backrest obviously suffering the after-effects of her excessive alcohol consumption the previous evening.  I might not have had a girlfriend before, but I had lived with other students long enough to recognise a hangover when I saw one, and hers was looking like a bad one. Roger answered the door, so I went and made Sash a black coffee with three sugars, just the way she liked it.  She held out her hands to me like a woman dying of thirst when I passed her the cup and gulped down the hot liquid.  I smiled at her, loving her ‘bed-hair’ and she smiled back, making my knees wobble.

At that point Roger reappeared, looking grave.  Turns out the volcano had decided to begin an eruption last night and we needed to pack up and ship out.   The house was in the path of the lava flow if the eruption got really bad, so we were asked to leave and given directions to a rescue shelter an hour’s drive away. It was the last day of the holiday anyway so it wasn’t a tremendous hardship for us to leave a bit early. Personally I would have liked to stay another day (or more specifically night) but there was always going to be nights in Cambridge.  Sure we didn’t have a hot tub, but I could always think of something…..

That tremendous night was a turning point in my life and I returned to the UK a different person.  I’d left my homeland a boy, but returned a man.  Sasha didn’t say anything about our night together and I didn’t want to scare her off, so I kept quiet too not wanting to rush anything.  I’d overheard girls talking in the refectories about how guys they were dating kept pushing and pressuring them, and I was determined not to be one of them.  Besides we all had finals to worry about and that kept my mind occupied during the day.  Alone at nights in my single bed though, well, that was different.  I would fantasize about the future with Sasha.  From the moment she kissed me I thought she would be the one and only woman I would ever love.  She had my heart and the rest of me too.  I was so happy.  Ange even asked me if I was ok as I was apparently grinning like a loon all the time now, but I just told her I was excited about being accepted by the MET to Hendon College.  It wasn’t a lie.  I was happy about that, but I knew Ange was sweet on me, and if I told her the real reason she would be heartbroken.  She was my friend and I couldn’t do that to her.  Better she live in hope than die in heartbreak.

 

About a month after Iceland, when I should have been cramming for exams, I scraped together every penny I could and went down to London for the day.  I visited  Bond Street and walked from one end to the other spending hours searching shop windows.  Finally I found just the thing.  It wasn’t brand new but it was beautiful just like her.  I didn’t care that I’d spent everything I had on it.  She was worth it.  As long as I had her I would be a rich man indeed.  I spent the journey back to Cambridge working out a plan.

It was three months since our trip to Iceland and the night of the Leavers ball.  Angela, Roger, James, Sasha and I were all going together.  It made sense as we lived in the same house and the cab fare could be split.   I remember feeling so jittery.  I must have checked my bow tie in the mirror about fifty times and the box in my pocket a hundred times, just for something to do.  It was stupid because I knew what I was about to do, and I wasn’t really scared but excited.  I’d spent weeks visualising the moment, knew what I would say, what she would say in reply.  I pictured the scene, cheers and back slaps all round as I embraced the woman I loved and would spend the rest of my life with when she said yes.

 

But it didn’t turn out that way.  About halfway through the ball, at the end of a classic waltz, I chose my moment.  Dropping down in front of Sasha, onto one knee, I reached into my pocket for the box.  I was aware of everyone around me taking a step back and I was grateful that they had given me a little room.  The butterflies started in my belly and my mouth went dry. But I screwed my resolve on tight and took a deep breath.

‘Sasha Reid, will you make me the most happy person on this planet and do me the honour of becoming my wife?’ 

The grammar was awful but I’d gotten the point across.  I looked up at her as the seconds ticked by and she hadn’t said anything.  The surprised silence of the crowd was turning rapidly awkward.  Sasha, my beautiful Sasha was shifting from foot to foot, chewing at her bottom lip in a way that made me tremble with delight.  But there was something in her eyes….

‘Sash?’ I said, trying to sound light even though there was a ton of lead in my gut.

‘Say something.’ I made a half laugh, as James came stalking over and put his arm around her waist.  Sasha tensed as he spoke,

 ‘You’re too late mate.  She accepted me this morning.’

It felt like I had been smacked round the head.  I felt sick, dizzy, and my eyes blurred.  I remember stuttering something, an apology knowing me and staggered to my feet as I heard laughs and congratulations being offered.  But she still said nothing.  She couldn’t even look me in the eye.

 

So I ran.  I ran out of the hall, down the road and kept on going until I couldn’t see the colleges anymore.  Then I just walked aimlessly until it got light. 

How could she do it?  Tell me that?  We’d gone on dates, spent evenings together at home, and all the while she was cheating on me with James.  Turns out they’d been together six months.  So when I thought she was with me in Iceland because she was in love with me, it was just because she didn’t have James to play with.  What hurt even more was that Angela and Roger both knew but they kept quiet.  They said they didn’t want to hurt me but their betrayal cut the wound deeper.  I packed up my stuff and left that day.  And I haven’t seen any of them since.

 ‘So that was my one and only trip to the moon and why I don’t like volcanoes, Harry.’ I said to the lizard who had been watching me throughout. 

‘They remind me of the best and worst nights of my life.’

Suddenly he looked behind me and scuttled away.  I heard a light cough and froze.  Someone was there, in the doorway. Had they heard what I said?  And if so, how much had they heard?  I was paralysed with fear.  The constant bullying at school followed by the heartbreak I suffered at University had scarred me for life. The day Sasha Reid broke my heart I vowed I wouldn’t let anyone get close enough again to touch it.  But I hadn’t reckoned on being marooned out here in the sunshine with a team of colleagues that had worked their way inside my stone walls.

A gentle breeze wafted a scent to my nostrils and I felt myself groan.  It would have been bad enough that Dwayne or Fidel heard my story, but her?  Why did she have to be the one to hear my tale of woe?  I wanted the sand beneath me to open up and swallow me whole.  Or a freak lightning bolt to strike me dead on the spot.  Then I wouldn’t have to have this conversation, see the pity in her eyes.

I couldn’t look.  My face was burning with shame and mortification, which rapidly turned to anger.  How dare she stand there eavesdropping on me?  She knew how much I hated people sneaking up on me.  I spun round, ready to vent my anger and embarrassment at her when my heart stopped. Literally did not beat for several seconds.  There was no air in my chest either.  It was as if time just stood still and all I could do was stare.

The drop of drool that hit my chin snapped me out of my trance and I gulped.  There was something about the way she looked at me that made my anger fizzle away in a nanosecond.  Her eyes weren’t full of the teasing and awkwardness   that I thought I would see, nor the expression of disgust that should have been there.  My brain had gone on strike, like a French lorry driver blockading my neurons, preventing me from thinking at all.

 ‘Well that’s a shame.’ She purred, taking a step towards me. 

Her sultry voice sent an electric shiver up my spine making me jump.

‘What is?’  It didn’t sound like me. 

The whisper was hoarse and strained.  I needed beer and fast.  But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the beautiful creature leaning against my porch.

 ‘That you don’t like volcanoes.  On our one there’s a secluded pool that’s fed by steam from one of the vents.  It’s just like a hot tub, but without the bubbles.’ 

Her eyes shone like a lighthouse in the dark, and I felt myself being guided back to calm waters.  I couldn’t figure it out.

The words had registered but their meaning was far behind my addled brain.  I felt myself gulp hard as she sashayed across the few feet of space that stood between us, and I was unable to drag my eyes from ogling her perfect body.  Something in me knew I was being drawn into her spell, just as I had been before, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t care.  I just hoped I didn’t do anything to spoil the moment.

The next thing I knew she was tugging on my loosened tie and her lips were crushing against mine.  They tasted sweet and delicious, like the mango juice she had been drinking earlier.  Without thought I sucked on them like a sweet lolly, licking and probably slurping to get more of her delicious taste.

 ‘And _I’m_ not drunk either.’ She laughed quietly, but not in a cruel way.

It was such a sweet sound that my ears rung with it as a feeling like warm syrup spread from the pit of my tummy outwards.  She pulled me by my tie inside the house and I was powerless to stop her. 

That night we both visited the moon.  Over and over again.  But this time I wasn’t alone in the morning……

 

 

 


End file.
